


What Happens in Vegas

by ReiverWrites



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, Married in Vegas! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReiverWrites/pseuds/ReiverWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles loves romantic comedies, he just never asked for his life to be one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> For Swingset in December because following her on Tumblr was the worst decision ever if I wanted to get anything done other than fill her Teen Wolf needs.

Stiles remembers very little about his first trip to Vegas. He, personally, blames it on the attentive waiters and Scott who, very helpfully, left him by himself for most of the trip.

Sadly Scott is actually a good friend, and while he’s been trailing after his new girlfriend, Stiles understands that this is a phase in all relationships and, because Stiles is a man born of too many rom-com’s, he gives a pass on the “all for love” card. So when Stiles sees his dad kiss Miss. McCall it’s not surprising that Stiles decides to distract himself by getting very intimate with anything the server will bring him.

Which, luckily for Stiles, is anything and everything.

By genetic composition alone, Stiles is a lightweight, his metabolism burning through the caloric intake but leaving the intoxicating goodness running rampant through his system and leaving him a giggling mess. Not many people find the uncoordinated mess that is his drunken self attractive, but he has woken up in his share of strange beds, so when he wakes up and the room that he’s in is definitely not the room he rented out, he’s a little more exasperated with his drunken self than anything else.

He catches a glimpse of something tall, dark, and greek-god pacing the bathroom on the other side of the hotel room and whispering furiously into his cell phone. Stiles figures that he must have been drunk, mostly because he can’t imagine even hoping to hit on something that wonderful when he’s sober.

The man is all eyebrows and abs, wearing only boxers as if even they are a nuisance, and he ends the call with a frustrated click. Stiles manages to have eye contact with the new owner of his sexual peak for a whole three seconds before nausea rolls through his stomach and he clambers out of bed, past Mr. Brooding-Eyebrows and straight to the toilet where his heavy breathing echoes and the smell of toilet water is almost soothing.

Stiles’ knees hurt slightly, and it’s while he’s trying to decide if there’s a better position for him to puke his guts out in that a hand drops on his shoulder and, like the toilet bowl it’s grounding.

“Hey.”

His stomach does a weird flip that has him groaning in response. At least one part of his body knows what to say, because currently his brain is off line.

“Want some coffee?”

Stiles really doesn’t want coffee, but he’s sitting naked in a bathroom that he’s unfamiliar with, willing himself to throw up, and being judged on his starting technique by Adonis himself. “Yeah” he can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat.

There’s the sticky sound of feet walking on linoleum and then Stiles is throwing up, purging himself of an orange colour that he previously thought was extinct. This is totally the worst part.

The world spins and Stiles closes his eyes against it, gripping the toilet in order to keep from falling over. There’s a weird clang that has never been associated with his fingers and other objects before and Stiles opens his eyes to make sure that all of his appendages are skin and bone – not machine – except what he finds is his usual fingers and a ring he’s never seen before in his life.

The ring Stiles bears isn’t anything fancy, but he feels as though it should mean something. His stomach tries for the gold in gymnastics again and, really, a stupid ring can wait until later, if nothing else. He’s probably over thinking it anyway.


End file.
